Pumpkin Eaters
by CWprodigy
Summary: Getting relationship advice from Crane was downright insane. But then again, when you're dating the most insane criminal to ever grace Gotham's darkest corners and you get caught cheating on them, your ideas have to be pretty crazy too. But what happens when Batman gets more information than he was seeking?


A/N: So this was a gift for a friend. He loved it and he told me I should share it so here it is! Please review so I can know what ya think.

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Crane's apartment was a dilapidated, sorry place. Gray paint peeled from walls while cracked windows showed spider-webbed designs, each different from the next like snowflakes. Bruce stood in front the door, slightly sweating in his suit and cowl, despite the cool breeze billowing his cape from the east. He landed three hard raps with his glove-clad fist and the wood quivered under the force. A moment bled into minutes and just before he considered kicking the damn thing down, it swung open invitingly. Crane stood before him, not the least bit surprised by his unannounced appearance or the way he took up the doorframe with his black, ominous presence.

"Come in," he drawled in a raspy voice, moving aside and ushering the vigilante in with a long, spindly arm. Batman entered with caution, muscles taut and prepared for a fight. When he turned, Crane had closed the door and was leaning against it, self-satisfied smirk etched into his pallid, pasty face. His professional attire was gone, replaced by jeans and a V-neck T-shirt, hair a mussed mess and glasses off.

"Hello Scarecrow," Batman said stiffly, referring to Crane's other half. Crow's smirk teetered on the edge of an amused smile but didn't quite make it.

"Batman," Crow jeered, bowing sarcastically, voice fuelled by contempt, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Batman growled, low in the throat, glaring openly at the man. The air in the room was heavy, humid and both men could feel it. Batman glanced around looking for any sign of danger. Dirty cups and plates were stacked haphazardly in the sink, newspapers were strewn carelessly over the counter top and cupboards were left half open.

"Where are my manners?" Crow went on, unfazed by the cold treatment. "Please have a seat." He himself flopped down on overstuffed couch cushions, sadistically relaxed.

"Where is he?" The caped crusader spat, fists involuntarily clenching at his sides. The Joker had to have been here, he could smell the gunpowder and greasepaint.

"Who?" The other man asked, wide-eyed and innocent. "Oh, wait. Do you mean the man you cheated on with that disgusting woman?" His smile returned fully, gleaming with vicious glee. "That man would be avoiding you."

In seconds, Crane was off the couch and against the wall, a firm hand clasped tightly around his bruising throat. The doctor cooled his features, but the smallest remnants of fear flashed in his eyes.

"I'm not going to ask again," Batman growled gruffly into the other man's ear. His grip on the pale throat tightened. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," Crow wheezed out, voice almost comically high-pitched but still managing to sound arrogant. "You of all people should know you can't put a leash on crazy." After a moment, he was released. Dropping to his knees, he gulped in large amounts of air then wiped his mouth of any spittle. He looked up at the stoic bat with an angry frown.

"You better hope that doesn't leave a mark," Crane warned rising to his feet and rubbing his aching neck. "I already get enough from your sociopathic playmate."

"Where is Joker?"

"Don't you ever listen?" Scarecrow sighed in exasperation, flopping on the couch and looking thoroughly exhausted. "I don't know. He's been staying here a few days, but he comes and goes as he pleases."

Batman turned to go.

"Hey wait, I'll let you in on a little advice." That infuriating smirk was back. "You look like you need it."

The dark knight would've loved nothing more at that moment to beat him to a bloody pulp. It would certainly help with the anger welling inside of him. But the doctor was right. He'd been searching for the Joker for a week now but without any luck.

He returned to his position in front of the other man and nodded stiffly for him to continue.

"Have a seat, I insist," Crow deadpanned, gesturing to the chair situated across from him. His molten brown eyes never left the bat as the vigilante obeyed the request, sitting in the uncomfortable seat.

"Now, I'm guessing you've checked all his known hideouts, favorite places, warehouses, even his goon's places, correct?" He didn't give the crusader a chance to reply. "But out of all those places, he came to _me_. Now why do you think that is?"

"Because it's the one place I'd never think he'd come," Bruce retorted truthfully. Crane was a dangerous conniving snake when he was Scarecrow and just damn pompous when Jonathan. How could the Joker not have killed him by now?

"Oh batman," Scarecrow tutted condescendingly, "there's so much you don't know about our jester. I'm the _first _person he came to."

He took a moment for the last statement to sink in. "Any thoughts?" he purred tauntingly, stretching out sore and underused muscles. When he saw the bat wasn't going to answer, he rolled his eyes but continued.

"Joker doesn't really trust anyone, possibly me and certainly not you." Batman stiffened, lips pulling back into a snarl.

"But," Crow continued, weaving Crane's scholarly voice into his Scarecrow persona seemingly enjoying this greatly, "He does care for a select few, at least as much as his sociopathic tendencies would allow. I happen to be one of those people and you used to be the other."

"How much does he care for you?" Batman questioned ignoring the last statement, an unforeseen edge in his voice. He could feel the air shift as Crane glanced at him, a secretive grin on his face.

"Enough," Crane settled on smugly, making a cage with his long, thin fingers. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat, looking throughouly proud of himself. Bruises were already forming around his neck but the other man could just make out several cuts on that pale throat, clearly the Joker's doing. His eyes were shining, as was his unwashed hair in the cheap overhead lighting.

"How much," Bruce gritted out though he already had his own ideas. Blood was pounding in his ears, fists clenching and unclenching, mind working in overtime. _"If this son of a bitch laid one finger on him…" _

"Enough," Crane repeated, gaze lingering on his bedroom door. A quick look saw that Batman had followed his eyes and that the message was well received.

"Enough that he didn't sleep on the couch while he was here."

Everything seemed to be still then, air dense and suffocating. It seemed like an outer body experience, the way he'd grabbed the scrawny doctor, slammed his head against the coffee table, and landed a single blow to his jaw. His hand was around his throat, not threatening anymore, just trying to squeeze the life out of Crane.

"I always did take you for the jealous type," Crane wheezed, his skin turning a sickly purple. He pawed blindly at the thick fingers squeezing his throat before feeling the dizziness hit him. Bruce continued to squeeze. He had never purposefully killed anyone, but he stared at Crane's fingers as he tried to free himself and all he could think of was those same fingers touching Joker. Just before he considered just letting the bastard drop dead at his feet the doorknob began to twist.

"Johnny-boy!" A familiar raspy voice called out as the door opened widely. "I'm home! Anything exciting happen while I'm gone?"

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A/N: So that was it? How was it? Good? Bad? OOC? Well, it was a gift for a friend. Should I continue


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